Performance aesthetics

Every time I have cyber sex I crease up

This morning at 5am I was still on Facebook surveying my options. Why are all the boys here so small? I had gone through the entire football, rugby and rowing firsts looking for something sporty, to galvanise me out of my relationship with my sanguine, colourless boyfriend. Nothing. Maybe LGBT? I could go lesbian. I quite like that Katy Perry song. I could go genderfluid. Some days I wake up and would rather self define as a lampshade than a woman.

But surprise! my boyfriend appears on Facebook chat:

The Boyfriend: I want to cum all over your face.


Me: Is this a joke?

(I hope it’s not a joke, this is the most exciting thing to happen to me in ages)

The Boyfriend: Deadly serious bitch I’m gonna make you prolapse.

(Was he finally taking some ownership over me?)

Me: When?

(Soon, come on)

The Boyfriend: 5 minutes, your house. I’m going to pound your flange.

(Is this my boyfriend? He does say things like this to his friends. Is this my new boyfriend?)

Me: See you then.

(That was so weak)

I switched off my computer and began to get ready. I had a waist-level sink wash given the pressing nature of the circumstances, and risked my Agent Provocateur lingerie since he probably won’t be this excited again.

I texted my boyfriend telling him to knock three times on the door. “Sure babe” he texted back. Oh my God I was so excited.


I opened the door and eggs smashed on my face, then they covered me in flour and confetti. I wiped my eyes and my boyfriend was tied up to a lamppost, himself covered in the white mixture . He had a sock strapped into his mouth with duct tape and was red in the face, screaming. His shoes were on the bonnet of a car, and in the early morning light he looked curious with one of his two feet bare.

Covered in eggs and flour, I began to feel strangely fertile, so I walked out in my slippers to talk to my boyfriend’s housemates who had played the prank.

“Sorry!” They laughed. “We just thought it’d be funny if we got you as well.” And yeah, this was probably the most fun I’d had in ages. I went over to my boyfriend, peeled the tape off his mouth, took out the dirty, foul sock in his mouth and said “Do you still want to fuck me?”

“No,” he said. “I want to go home with my friends.” So I went in, went to bed still all floury and imagined.

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